


Apple Blossom

by PrincessFreak



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Apple Blossom by The White Stripes, Cheating, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, Sadistic Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26101081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessFreak/pseuds/PrincessFreak
Summary: Charlie is upset. Once again, a customer has made a fool of the hotel, Vaggie is upset with her, and as always her family is impossible to talk to.Alastor decides to have a little chat with her to help cheer her up and give her the support she needs. Hopefully, it's enough to have her wrapped tight around his finger.The big bad wolf is coming to gobble this little doe-eyed red riding hood up, and if that means dressing as grandma for a bit, then that just makes the hunt all the more interesting.
Relationships: Alastor/Charlie Magne, Mentioned Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	Apple Blossom

**Author's Note:**

> I did this a bit differently than most song fics. Instead of putting a chunk of lyrics between chunks of story that correspond with those lyrics, I integrated the lyrics into the story. Mostly in the dialogue but not entirely.
> 
> Here's the song: [Apple Blossom](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2xWxSm3VrA)
> 
> I suggest reading the story first, and then listening to the song.

Alastor finds Charlie on the back patio, looking out at the long grass he planted with his magic weeks ago, her arm resting against the wooden railing, pouting face resting on her arm. She’s depressed, in part because yet another customer stayed the night to avoid the streets with no intention of any redemption. The demon left after a large breakfast, taking half of the bar with him, spouting out vulgar insults as he walked out the door. And though occurrences like this have happened several times by now, this particular little scenario has left a snag between Charlie and Ms. Vagatha, he can sense it. Afterall, Vaggie warned her not to take in this guy, told her he was a creep and was looking to take advantage of the hotel. She’s said this quite a lot for many patrons, but there’s only so many times a person can put up with a repeat of the same scenario before they get sick of their advice going unheeded. Alastor wasn’t there to see their private “discussion,” but when a fuming Vaggie stormed out of the hotel, and a depressed demon belle was left in her wake, Alastor knew Vagatha had had enough of Charlie’s naive and irresponsible decisions for the day. (He doesn’t doubt for a second though that, as always, she would be back like a loyal love-sick dog in a couple of hours. But Charlie’s doubt is palpable. He needs to be quick).

This all means that Charlie’s normal ear to talk off is gone, and now she is left, hurt, feeling ignored, feeling like a failure even more so than usual. No doubt she’s desperate for someone else to confide in, which resulted in a private phone call with her mother (well, her voicemail) that Alastor had the opportunity to be privy to in the shadows. He didn’t want to miss this little bit of juicy information on Charlie’s private life. Her little voice would crack behind hidden tears, as she tried to keep her voice peppy. As if her parents cared whether or not she was happy. A hesitant little face was enough to tell him she wanted to talk about today’s issues, but the absence of a real person behind the phone made that impossible. So she stuck to false small talk on how the hotel is going through a rocky start, but should start seeing results soon. He didn’t miss the doubt in her voice.The poor darling has been trying so hard to get her parents approval, but she can’t even get their attention. It’s not surprising information though. With a single perusal of the portraits and pictures hung up on the walls his first time around the hotel, he could guess as much. But, double checking your facts is never a bad thing, and it allows him to know exactly what to say to hit her hard and direct.

Now with Charlie in such a delicate mood, and her angry little bluenose of a partner gone, with all the others depressed in their own rooms out of sight, Alastor knows this is his chance to get Little Miss Trusting wrapped a bit tighter around his finger.

“Good evening, little apple blossom.” A clever little name he’s come up with to connect her with her father’s sinful legacy. One that he hopes stings her a little bit, but is still innocent enough that she won’t assume poorly of him. She doesn’t react much to the name, nor to his presence in general. Well this simply won’t do, she looks like a squished marshmallow!

He walks over to her, bending down to get closer to her face, arms politely behind his back, grin as wide as ever. “What seems to be the problem? Truly, is one little patron such a terrible loss?”

She still doesn’t say anything, but she’s turned away to avoid looking at him. At least it’s a response.

He puts a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to be as comforting and seemingly open as possible. If this were any of the others, they would have seen this as even more suspicious, but sweet innocent Charlie is always a sucker for the barest forms of affection. It makes her oh so naive. She looks at him with her sad little puppy dog eyes, eyes tearing up in the corners.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she mutters with her voice so soft he can barely hear her while only a few inches from her face. “It’s more than just a patron. It…” she hesitates slightly, and he catches it. “It has to do with some family stuff and some personal issues too. I don’t want to burden you with small stuff like that.”

_Bite!_

“Awe sweetheart no no no! Who told you you’re a burden!” He squeezes her shoulder more firmly before letting her go, hopefully leaving her desiring the missing comfort. He lets his grin fall a bit to something appearing more sincere, and gives her direct eye contact. He even let’s a bit of his voice's radio crackle tone down a bit. “My poor poor Charlie, everyone deserves someone they can confide in. Even if I can’t possibly understand, your problems are never a burden to me, darling.” 

“I…” She bites her lip. “But, I do have someone I can confide in… most of the time. At least that’s what I thought...” She looks longingly towards the direction Vaggie ran off in. A lost little puppy. Such an open book… It almost makes the hunt too easy. But if little red riding hood comes skipping down his path, he can always play grandma if that’s what it takes for it to be entertaining. He picks up her hand, and holds her fingers gently in his own, grabbing her attention back and returning the physical contact she so clearly desires.

“Charlie,” he drops the radio static completely. He’s been told in the past that it makes him seem sincere. People find comfort in the oddest of things. He runs over her fingers with his thumb, light and delicate as if her skin will bruise if he holds too harsh. “If all the ones you tell your troubles to have been making you feel like a burden for your passions, your interests, your problems… then they don’t really care for you.”

It was too fast too sudden. He can see a subtle fear in her eyes, and she looks like she wants to withdraw her hand from his. She may be a naive princess, but she’s still the princess of Hell. He needs to stop underestimating her insight into people. And it probably wasn’t the best idea to so quickly imply something so extreme about her girlfriend. Charlie tends to see the best in people, and then never lets that image go. But that’s okay, he can smooth this over, use that desire to his advantage.

“I’m worried you aren’t getting the support you need,” he let’s go of her hand, and leans on the railing in a similar position she was, though instead of pouting he goes back to smiling big, letting it falter a bit so he looks more… human. “Running a hotel, dealing with family drama, and your personal pain… those are hard things to deal with on your own.” He raises a hand and inches his finger, inviting her to come closer. “Come and tell me what you’re thinking. If no one else is going to listen, then I certainly will.”

Charlie steps in closer, though she still looks a bit hesitant. Then the little doll leans both of her arms back on the railing, a decent 5 feet apart from him, and looks up at the burning red sky. She looks so much like a lonely princess stuck up in a tower.

“I just feel like everything is fighting against me, y’know?” She finally begins. To be fair, the entirety of Hell treats the Happy Hotel like a laughingstock, so she’s not exactly wrong. “It’s like I’m on a little boat out in the middle of the ocean, and all the waves are starting to crash. Just as I finally get over one wave, another comes up right after it. And all the waves are just so big, I don’t know how my boat could ever make it over.” She turns her head to the clock tower in the center of the city, her voice tight, tears welling in her eyes. The next extermination is in 324 days. “But what choice do I have? If I don’t ride out the storm, how am I going to survive?”

Alastor ponders his response carefully. He knows the gist of what he wants to say, but he wants to convey it within her own metaphor.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he begins with a side glance. “But modern day ‘life vests’ include a little emergency light that flashes when a person is in danger, right?”

Charlie tilts her head like a dog that can’t hear. “Uhh, I think so??”

He closes his eyes, enjoying the fresh bit of breeze in the air, before tilting his head to make eye contact with her.

“Well darling,” he keeps his voice even and smooth. “Just when your boat starts sinking,” he walks up to her, bending down close and never breaking eye contact. “As long as you have on that little life vest, and that little light is blinking,” he points at her heart. She looks down and blushes at such intimate contact so close to her breasts. “Then I will come and rescue you.” He watches her practically shiver at the low words spoken so close to her, and finally moves his hand away. “All you need is that little light of hope, my dear.” 

She still looks a bit confused, though he imagines it’s more about her own conflicting emotions than a lack of understanding. He sees tears gathering in her eyes, and even a heartless creature like him can admit that seeing Charlie cry hurts worse than being mauled alive. But he doesn’t let it get to him, instead he uses it.

“Lots of girls walk around in tears, especially in Hell,” he states, letting his smile shrink to something more soft and sincere, his voice devoid of static once again. “It seems there’s always so much to be sad about. A never ending stream of pain. But those tears aren’t for you.” He cups her face gently, breaching that blurred line of platonic and romantic. “You bring joy, hope, happiness to everyone in your life. You, more than anyone, deserve happiness in return.” Words he knows she’s been craving to hear her whole life.

She sniffs, her pupils big with affection, desire, hope. Her hands are at her chest, she’s clinging on to every word.

“It seems to me,” using his free hand, he gently grabs onto one of her. The breeze is blowing again, and he hopes it’s as relaxing for her as it is for him. “You’ve been looking all around, for _years_ , for someone to tell your troubles to.”

She breaks eye contact with a large sniff, holding his hand tightly. She looks at him with her big eyes, the better to see him with, and leans towards him, clearly wanting a hug, but not sure if that’s okay. She should be crumbling in his arms right now, not doubting him for a second. He needs her to trust him more. To do that, he must appear to have his own guard down. Grandma may have large teeth, but little red doesn’t have to know about that yet. There’s not many denizens here that know of his life before Hell, so maybe a bit of his own troubled childhood will secure this win.

He pulls away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She seems to have calmed down a bit, tears falling less, a little fragile smile given to him. He returns back to his own grin, but closes his eyes as if processing his own emotions. 

He moves down over to the patio opening, leaning back on his hands, position completely relaxed, smile closing once again to something peaceful. He listens to the sounds of crickets. He lets the nostalgia hit him. He knows this isn’t a sight he’s often seen in. Hopefully, Charlie will be more inclined to believe what he says with him so bare like this. After a moment, Charlie still hasn’t sat next to him, and he can tell she’s hesitant. He opens his eyes, and holds out his hand.

“Come and sit with me and talk awhile,” he still sounds like a jolly show host, but the static is still nowhere to be heard. She sits, but with her knees up, and she’s still frowning a bit. He points to his own mouth and smiles wide, his fingers following the edge of his mouth to show it’s growth. “C’mon my dear, let me see your pretty little smile!” He says with his radio host charm. It’s a move he imagines people would use for calming a sad child. It seems to work for Charlie now, for she gives him a bit of a smile, relaxing much more, leaning her head against his shoulder. He rubs her back a couple of times.

“Y’know, when I did the remodeling and cleanup of this hotel, I modeled this patio after the one in my childhood home.” He doesn’t force a Mid-Atlantic accent as much as he normally would, afterall, if he’s going to be telling her about his childhood, letting a small bit of his natural accent slip out only adds credibility. It’s enough that his voice has a bit of a twang, almost unnoticeable, and definitely not enough to embarrass himself with. “I didn’t like my father much, the violent drunken bastard, but I adored my mother…”

“We weren’t very wealthy, we barely made enough to live off of, but there were some things that made life worth living back then. My mother’s cooking for one,” he chuckled, remembering all the jambalaya, gumbo, cornbread, crawfish... The savory and spicy flavors of Louisiana that almost make his heart ache for memories long gone. “And the late nights on the porch out in the country. The sound of crickets was better than all the jazz of the city! Fireflies shining in the trees waiting to be caught in little jars. Grass between my muddy little feet. Frogs croaking somewhere nearby that we could never quite pinpoint. A cool breeze the night would bring after long sweaty days in the humid heat of summer...” He leans back, taking a minute to listen to all the noises he was able to bring back to this patio.

“I ended up moving to New Orleans as an adult. There weren't many career opportunities out in the country, especially with the kind of radio work I wanted to do. But I always had a soft spot for the outskirts. New Orleans was new, lively, and every corner you could find something new and entertaining. I learned to embrace it quickly, the city was so much better suited for me, and I still consider New Orleans my home… But I’ll never forget those nights on the patio, watching the stars.”

Charlie stared up at the sky, as if expecting a dark sky littered with stars to appear magically. But nothing shows except the large pentagram that always hangs in the sky and a few sparse clouds. If he were being honest, he doesn’t believe he’d actually call New Orleans home now. He knows quite a lot of it has changed, and it no longer represents what he wanted back when he was still human. No, Hell is his home now. Arriving in Hell meant freedom to do as he pleased. No longer did he have to be chained back, forced down by society for his skin, background, wealth, and murderous tendencies... He could achieve all the power and success he truly deserves, and all of Hell would respect him for it. There’s a certain chaos to Hell that he could never get from the human world, something that he craved. But, if acting a bit homesick will help Charlie see the humanity in him, then so be it. Louisiana was once his home long ago, afterall.

“Hell is _your_ home Charlie.” Finally to the point. He wants to roll his eyes at his own poor transition, but he knows it’ll strike a chord with Charlie. He leans up on his elbows and clears his throat to go back to his Mid-Atlantic accent he spent years developing to become a proper radio host. “Your passion for saving this place is so admirable. I wish that I could have been on Earth to save New Orleans from whatever charlatens plague it now.” He sits up fully now, looking over to her, seeing her watch him like he’s the savior himself. “Truth is, I could never care enough the way that you do. It’s a wonderful trait of yours, and one that’s rare to find in Hell.” 

He subtly places his hand on top of hers. She looks down and blushes once again, before looking up at him and biting her own lips. She doesn’t realize it, but she’s staring right at his mouth. He’ll never understand the body’s draw on most people, but it certainly is a useful tool.

“What I’m saying is, I wanted to help you from the start. Not just for entertainment, but because I see something unique in you. I don’t just want to help you manage the hotel. If you need emotional help too, then I want to be there for you.” She gives eye contact again, desire screaming in her eyes, eyes welling up. “All you have to do is put all of your troubles in a little pile, and I will sort them out for you. Every single one of them. You don’t have to carry so much by yourself anymore.”

She breaks eye contact with a loud sob, then pulls him into a tight hug and cries in his shoulder. He’s surprised at first, has to force himself not to flinch at the sudden contact, before he relaxes and starts rubbing her back like his mother used to when he was young. Back in the days when he’d get bitten by a strange animal, or would be there with her crying after a punishment from his father. Charlie’s scleras are red, tears are running down her cheeks, hair flickering like the flame of a weeping candle, and horns forming on her head. He can feel her power behind her passion, and it’s almost frightening. She pulls back briefly, and looks at his face. His soft smile and warm eyes. He really wants to grin like a maniac, feeling an adrenaline high, addicted to her power, but he can make himself look like a young heartthrob if that’s what she wants.

He already knows she isn’t thinking when she goes for a passionate kiss, but that’s the point. She shouldn’t be thinking now, he’ll take care of all the thinking for her.

He’s kissed people in the past, though he admits his experience is limited, and this is probably the first time in many decades he’s let someone get this close to him. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, her lips are soft and warm and she smells like vanilla, but he knows she’s feeling a lot more in the kiss than he is. It’s over after a couple seconds, which is good for him cause if she were to attempt to deepen the kiss, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to follow. But she pulls back, smiles briefly, before her frowns drop. Her eyes look to the side shocked and a bit sunken in. She covers her mouth. No doubt she’s beginning to realize what she did. She can’t come back from it now. The fact almost makes him break into a smirk again. Tears fall one at a time down her cheeks to her chin before dripping down, and she bows her head with silent sobs. He doesn’t want her out of his grasp yet though.

He tilts her chin up, looking at her big doe eyes. He wipes away her tears. Most girls in Hell cry often, but he wasn’t lying when he said they didn’t suit her. Like a baby deer crying out for it’s mother. A princess shouldn’t look so pitiful. He knew it before, but it’s only just starting to sink into his chest as she gives him shaky eye contact: She truly has been needing someone to tell everything to. Especially if she was willing to fall into his arms after a quick sit down and chat. He was half expecting not to get this far today. He gives her a bit of a grin, not enough to expose his teeth fully, but enough for her to get the message. He wants her to smile, forget her regret for a few seconds more. Thankfully, she smiles back, albeit a small and hurt smile, but a pretty one all the same. He comes to the realization that not everything was talk. He truly does want to fix everything for her, any problem she might bring him, which isn’t a feeling he feels towards other people very often.

It’s been so long since he’s felt affection towards someone. He doesn’t know if this is what love feels like, but it makes him feel a bit weary with how much of his time and energy he wants to give up for her. Love could be very bad news.

For his own sanity, he looks away and spots the clock tower once more. Still 324 days until Lucifer’s paradise goes under siege once again, and Hell will be thrown into an extra bout of chaos. One day Charlie will make this her paradise, once Lucifer abandons his throne for something better to do, and by then the days of extermination might end. Or, at least that’s what he imagines Charlie wants.

He looks at her again. At that sweet, innocent face. The perfect genetic image of both her parents, but with neither of their personalities. A beautiful little dove with a heart of gold, but one so desperate for the affection and approval she never received as a kid. Such a gullible and naive little princess sitting on a mountain of power she doesn’t understand…

He wonders if he could benefit from being the prince of Hell.


End file.
